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Th 'RVANT OF Tin: LORD.
fVh, df rl.rt... :a como -'n oM *!/igy blow'd hia hc'u, Doo:: yor laugh at do sarvont o* do J.awd, Ar da grabbed up de cbilluu like or hawg aetiu' co'r, Boan ycr lnu *h afc do savvont o' do Lawd. f?o t-p, old baldy, 'lowed the freckle-face chile, lo i.n ycr laugh at do sarvont o'de Lawd. AJJ 1 *m or ars grubbed biui wider mighty broad- finile, Inan yer laugh at do sawont o' do T.awd. De jM)' chile bollorod an' tried to got loose, T)oan yer laugh atde sarvent o' fle Lnwd. SVnt de b'ar dmg him off like or varmint wid a goose, Ko ycr laugh at de sarvout o' do Lawd. 'Doon yor laugh at the aarvtml o" do Iawd, young man, 1 *oan ycr laugh nt de prophot in de lane, TOT de b'ara inout cum frnm do woods, young mail, An' fat ycr up 'gardles* o' do pain, pain, pain, An* pat yer up 'gardloHK o* do pain. Jci: praise old 'Ligy and praiHo Mars Saul.. Ar.? we'll dance wid David roun' do ark in do hall. Oh, ycr better be keovful whou yer titters at er man, Po&u yer lnush at do sarvent o' do Jjawd IFur yer inout strike de prophet o' do Jordan river ban'. TVan ytr laugh at de sarvont o' do. I .awd. An':t mont be de case dnt do pussou without h'ar, Poftu yer laugh at de .arvent o' do Lawd, Hab g"f. or awful 'dnouoo \vd do ballolujah lV:i.r, ycr laugb at do sarvont o" do I»awd. An' don ycr oyes is open w'ou its dun too late, l^oan yor laugh at do sarvont o' do ]awd. Int y-'kr hab crooked yov finger at de wrong fiort or pate, Poan yor laugh at do sa-rvoufc o4 de liawd. —Ark a inww Tro veler. MADAME HATHERTON. BY MISS. or.XKA WIMiWfN. It was a crisp, clear, cold day in De cember, two bright nod pretty girls were walking briskly ovor the frozen ground in the outskirts of country village, their steps keeping time, and the pit-pat of their walking boots male sag pleasant music to it. They had walked for some distance iu silence, but presently the taller of the two, a dark, handsome girl somewhat haughty in her look and carriage, saifl to lier companion "If it weve not that I en joy the walk, I!nth, I would protest .against if. Here we are si mile away from the village and you won't tell me why you go prancing oir on a visit to this old lady—Madam Hatherton is it -you call her ?—or what claim she has upon your time and attention." Why, Laura, dear, she has the claim •of age and loneliness. Surely that is enough, if there were nothing else." "Oli, you sly puss! You must have your little mystery, with your 'nothing more.' Now do tell mo what is the nothing—or something—more." "Well, I will but I'm afraid you'll laugh at me. That's why I haven't told you before. I do hate to be laughed at" Ruth Marwin added, with ludierious earnestness. Miss Fullerton suppressed a dispo sition to indulge in tho unwelcome sound, and slipping Ruth's hand be sieath her arm, held it there, while she said soberly: "Why, bless the dear «Siild! so does everybody hate to be laughed at. It: snakes mo just, furious. So bring forth your confidence I splodge myself not to smile even,—ao not if it be a tale of that wonderful second-sight you .-ometimes possess." "Indeed, it is something like it, Laura but ever since old Madam Hatherton came hero, arid ever since I first laid eyes on her, I have felt a sort of css.ll to protect her and ever since I first entered her dwelling something seems to say to me every time I cross the threshold: 'A dark tragedy hovers over this house, which yon may avert if you heed the warning.' Miss Fullerton gave a little shudder, half real, half make-believe. "Well," she said, "I declare you have made my blood run cold and how far are we now .from this abode of mystery?" "There it is, that little low house." Jrh» pointed as she spoke to a small, square, low house. It was stone, only one-story in height, and dark and •weather-beaten with tiio storms of many winters. '"Good gracious! .Does she live there silone—so far away from other houses?" exclaimed Laura Fullerton. "les, quite alone ruid you will be surprised to see how prettily appointed •tho bouse is inside. Wise attends to everything herself, for nothing wifl in duce her to keep a servant or even a chore-woman." "What a queer old woman "'Queer that's ,ps.it what she is •everybody calls her queer, and some people used to say worse, till they got accustomed to her ways." By this time the girls reached the house, and Ruth, after giving a loud rap on the door, lifted the latch and in vited her friend to enter. Miss. Fuller ton did so. "Perhaps she is not at Jiome, Ruth,"she said. "Oil yes, she is the house is always locked lip iu her absence. She'll be here in a moment, for she knows who •her visitor is, no one cl.se ever comes." TvJiss Fullerton, now becoming accus tomed to the semi-gloom of the room, noticed that it was not only well but .richly furnished a handsome carpet •cover the lloor the furniture was of the luxurious description known as Turkish, aud covered with tapestry of rich hues. A quaint, old-fashioned :ano occupied tho place of honor in room some pictures, which Miss ilerton recognized as rare and valu ni.i'e, adorned the walls heavy damask v.irtaius draped tho windows, and were eii-,'htly drawn bssck with cords, just .revealing the l.sce curtains that waved close to tho windows. A quick, light stop was now heard approaching the door, and before Miss Fullerton could oxpress tho surprise she felt, Madam Hatherton outeivd and warmly -wel comed her guest, Ruth Marvin, who immediately presented her friend. Madam Hatherton's appearance was ns peculiar as her surroundings. She was sissall, very spare in form, and made to appesir even smaller than she really was by a stoop in the shoulders, so marked as to look almost like de formity. Her slender hands, well shaped and very pretty, flashed with many and curious brilliant rings in her ears large diamonds shone like stars her piercing eyes were deep-set and very dark, gleaming from beneath brows that wero heavily msirked, but quite white her slciu was shriveled, her lips thin, and her hair—so much of it as was seen beneath a velvet head covering that fitted close like a skull cap—was while like her brows and her costume was a short, narrow -skirted, skimp-black velvet gown, with antique lace rsillles shading the wrinkled throat aud wrists. Her greeting to 1'utli, although af fectionate, was not of the usual descrip tion she neither kissed her nor shook hands with her. But walking straight up to her, and looking up into her bright face, said: "l'ou are well, my dear Yes, I see. Fre.ih as a rose, and as sweet." She then gravely and ceremoniously greeted Miss Fullerton, motioning her to a seat and under cover of conversa tion with llulh, and an occasional word to Laura, took a loug and critical survey of the latter. "This is something more thsin mj* daily visit, madam," Ruth said at last. "I want you to play for my i'rieud— will 3-ouV" "Certainly, I will play for her." Madame Hatherton opened the piano, and her first touch of the keys proclaimed her a master of the instru ment. She played the old and half forgotten msisic of her girlhood but Laura Fullerton, herself a fine musi cian, thought she never heard such playing, and her heightened color and the tears in her eves proclaimed her admiration. The old lady was not above such subtle (lattery, and a gentle ilusli of pleasure stole into her with ered cheeks. She laid her hand gently on Laura's arm. "Once I eould sing tiie songs," she said, "but my poor old voice is cracked and broken now." "You need scarcely regret it, while you make the piano sing so divinely," was the enthusiastic response. Madam Hatherton was pleased with her guests she treated them, royally, making them partake of cake of her own made, and wine that looked like molten gold, or imprisoned sunshine, in delicate glasses, each on9 of which was a curiosity. She followed them to the door, and even stepped over the threshold to look after them, urging them both to come again soon. Her gaze lingered longest upon Laura's tall sind elegaut figure, and she kept her eyes fixed on it till the curve iu the road hid lior from view. Ruth was a dear, sweet little creature, and the old lady loved her but Laura had given the tear of sympathy and emotion dear to the musieism's soul—doubly dear to the old and forgotten, who seldom find such sympathy, save in their own mem ory of the triumphs of their youth. "So that is Laura Fullerton!" Madam Hatherton murmured, as she returned to her solitude, and closed the door. "She is a noble-looking girl, aud if he really loves her—who knows?—3he msiy make a good man even of him." Her face softened, her mouth quiv ered, aud tears blinded the flashing dark eyes. All at once she seemed to grow very old, her limbs trembled, and seemed to fail her, and she sank help lessly into si chair. "Oh, Alfred! Alfred!" she cried, iu a broken, piercing voice, sind then a tempest of grief shook her, while pas sionate tsars rained like a storm over her aged face. For sum.' time Madam Hatherton abandoned herself to this wave of emotion but by aud by, when its force was spent, she rose tremblingly, searched for hei keys, opened her sec retary, and took from it an envelope which she opened, and drew fourth the contents. It was her will and she read it carefully through. "All this must be changed," she said aud replacing the will, locked her secretary, and re turned the keys to her pocket. "Well, Hhe is an extraordinary creat ure, Ruth," said Laura, "and I don't wonder you feel an interest in her. llor face haunts me—I dou'fc imagine where I have seen her before." "It's a haunting face, Laura. I'm sure she has a history, and a curious one attacked to her." "But she is certainly crazy to live there alone and unprotected. Some tramps will murder lxer, if only for the diamonds she wears." "Yes, and it is useless to talk to her —I have begged and implored. I think you must try, Laura—she was quite taken with you, and you have such powers of persuasion." Laura laughed, incredulously. "There is one old lady I should wish to try them on," riie said. "What do you mean? There's no new trouble between you and Edward, I hope." "Only that his dreadful old auut has cast him oil forever, sind that I am for bidden to speak to him by papa, O, Ruth, I'm so miserable—no one believes in him but me every ono calls him a reprobate, and my heart is broken about it." "But his aunt—what is the new trouble? Perhaps she will relent." "No chance of that. In order to re move herself from the temptation of his influence she has disappesired, aud left 110 trace of lier whereabouts. Poor Edward! No wonder he is desperate— they drive him so." "But what sort of a woman is this aunt pursued Ruth, much interested, after the manner of her sex, in a lovo story. "I don't know, dear. I never saw her, never heard her name. He was afraid to introduce me lest she should prejudice me against him, I think." Ruth was all sympathy and fall of hopeless suggestions and tho two girls, having become fairly embarked on a subject so near the heart of one of them, soon forgot old Madam Hather ton. These two girls occupied the same room and the discussion ol^ Laura's lovo affair still engaged thcta when they fell asleep. It was close \n mid night when Ruth started up witi\ a cry, the cold dew of fright upon her brow. "Laura—Laura! Wake, for heiven's sake!" she cried "something awful is happening. Oh! I've had such a dream. I'm afraid Madam Hatherton is murdered." "Nonsense, yon foolish girl. You've had the nightmare, aud I suppose your dreams were colored by your conversa tion. "I tell you she's in some danger, and I'm going to her," Ruth returned, resolutely, jumping out of bed and hastily dressing while she spoke. "I saw her lying on the lloor in her room, pale as death, but her eyes wero wide open, and they seemed to call me to her. I am going!" Laura listened with a cold, uncom fortable thrill. She tlso rose and be gan to dress herself. "I will go with you," she said "but I'm sure we will have a laugh at our own absurdity." "Better to laugh than to cry," Ruth answered, shortly. "But you're very good to offer to come, Laursi. Finish dressing while I call the bo.ys." Ruth's two brothers consented to ac company her, altlioug'i protesting her nonsense but as she declared her in tention of going alone if they refnsed, they were content to msiko a virtue of necessity and, spurred by her example aud sharp entreaties, the whole party took the road, the yeung men armed with a revolver and a couple of stout sticks. It was a brilliant moonlight night, almost as bright as day aud but for Ruth's fearful apprehensions of evil, her companions were much in clined to regard the expedition in the light of a frolic. But Ruth put a damper on any such feeling aud urged them all, by precept and example, to hasten, herself taking the lead and running with a speed that required some exertion on Laura's part to keep up with. As they csime in sight of the old brown house Ruth stopped, with a suppressed cry. "There," she panted, "do you see that light, moving from room to room —already it has twice changed its place. I knew something was wrong, or otherwise Madam Hatherton would be in bed and asleep." Her listeners were much impressed by her words, and for tho first time be gan to share her fears. They came to a sudden halt. "We must not be heard approach ing," said Will "if any burglar is there, he will hear our stops on this hard-frozen ground." "Slip off your boots, Will," said -Tim, takiug off his own as he spoke "the girls will carry them, and we will go on sihead." Noiselessly they flew forward in their stocking feet, and Ruth and Laura, trembling with the sense of danger, followed. "O, my brothers, if they should be hurt! moaned Ruth. A pis tol shot was heard tho next moment, aud immediately afterwards a Hying figure bounded from the door, and was pursued by Will and Jim far down the road. The girls hastened into the house. The candle had been upset,but by the moon's light Ruth soon found matches and relighted it. She then led the way to Madam Hatherton's room, where the poor old lady lay upon tho floor stunned aisd insensible, but not dead. She was still dressed as when they had last seen her, and, by the appearance of papers stewn about, and ink upon the stand, had sat up later than usual to write. Ruth and Laura exerted themselves to rostore her they chafed the poor old hands, and both discovered at the same mo ment that every one of the costly rings and diamond ear-rings were gone. "Stolen," whispered Ruth, in answer to Laura's mute inquiry. "She always slept with them." It was long before Madam Hatherton gave signs of re turning consciousness but when at last she recognized her companions she said to Ruth: "You were right, my desir it was not safe for me to bo alone. Ah, my beau tiful ring! I had rather the villain had taken all the money I possessed." A clutter was now heard at the door, and the boys, dragging their prisoner, entered. He had been captured with out bloodshed, and fouud his captors more than a match for him. "Oh, they've got lxim!" Ruth ex claimed in gloe. "Dour madam, yott he can't shall have your rings again have swallowed them." "Here ho is, madam shall I unmask him?" ask Jim. Madam Hatherton looked and began to tremble. Laura glanced at the tall figure, and felt a cold chill of appre hension but Jiui, who had asked the question for mere form, tore th'c mask from the burglars face without waiting for any answer. "Edward!" shrieked Laura, and the horror iu her tone caused even that hardened face to blush. "My son!" screamed Madam Hather ton, in a voice of anguish, and fell to the floor iu a dead faint. Every one sprang to her assistance, and in tho confusion the thief escaped. Neither Will nor Jim attempted to re capture him, for they saw plainly enough that it would be a deadly blow to two women present. It was hours before Madam Hather ton again returned to consciousness, and when at last she opened her eyes tho light seemed fled from them. She never sat up again, never touched the beloved piano any more, aud made but one more effort before she died. Her will was changed, but not as she had in tended, for she left all sho possessed, equally divided, to Laura and Itutli. When the will was resid these young ladies found themselves heiresses. Laura attended the old lady to the last, and wept bitterly when she closed those aged eyes. How many of those tears were for the reprobate son she herself scarcely suspected. Why Edward Dunbar had spoken of his mother as his aunt he alone could have told. Perhaps it was a last rem nant of shame that made him blush to acknowledge that she whom he had deceived since the time when he was old enough to hatch schemes of treach ery and cunning, was the woman who had cradled his baby head and dreamed high hopes of a brilliant future for him. Be this supposition correct or otherwise will never be known, for Ed ward Dunbar was never more seen in the haunts where he had been a familiar figure, aud together with many other things concerning Madam Hatherton, it must remain a mystery. VECUJJI AH 1'itiH'KurtK n'liicu 1VKAK GIVES TO iKOX. "Vibration, when continued for a long time," said the Superintendent of an iron foundry, "causes iron to lose its tenacitj', and it becomes granulated and brittle, something like pig iron, in stead of being long in the grain like wrought iron," "How do you account for this said the reporter. "I don't know," was tho reply. "There are many things about iron that no one can explain." "What do you think of the chance of the elevated roads having a long lease of life? Is there any likelihood of their breaking down through the iron of which they are made becoming brit tle?" "Not for a good many years, but cer tainly tho vibration is bound to affect them through time and something msiy snap. They ought to be inspected very closely and renewed before the time came when it would be dangerous to ride on them. I have known heavy iron beams to snap through vibration which looked perfectly sound, and at the point of breakage were apparently as strong as in any other part, but the cohesiveness Avas gone and the sections presented a granulated instead of a fibrous appearance." "Does the iron of rails when they aro of wrought iron become brittle also?" said the reporter. "No," said his informant, "they do not. The}- acquire sin entirely new property, or rather they lose one es sential property, that of capacity for being welded. Evorv blacksmith knows that a bit of wrought iron rail cannot bo welded if it has been worn for a num ber of years. The parts split into fibers when heated aud .struck, but do not weld together." "How do you account for the iron being affected differently'?" "I do not know. All I do know is that it is the case, and every intelli gent blacksmith will tell you the same." —New York Evening Telegram, rim nan i.v sc'mmi,. The Bavariau Government lias issued directions that no child in any school shall be punished except by rod, and two sizes are prescribed, as also the number and dimensions of the two twigs, reminding one of the timo when in the deeds of many schools in En gland -00 years ago it was laid down that every scholar "shall give 2d. to a poor scholar appointed by the master to provide rods." It is only quite of late years that the charge at Eton for a birch of half a a guinea in every boy's bill has ceased to be made, and the present provost, when appointed head master, was pre sented by the captain of the school with a birch rod tied up with blue rib bon. The Eton rod consists of three long twigs without branches, bound with a string for about a quarter of their length. The instrument used at Win chester, which has not been altered since 1467, is formed of four apple twigs inserted in a wooden handle. Four cuts are called a "scrubbing" and six cuts "bibling," because in former days when a boy was "sent up for six," he was introduced to the head master by the 1'ible' cjfcrk.—Golden Days. THE WAY TO MAKE MOSEY. Mr. T. V. t'arwell lell* Young Mm IIoio to Do It, The Boston Herald, which has been asking millionaires for thero views on getting rich, lias received the following recipe from Mr. J. 1 arwell of Chi cago: I have been unable to answer your query sooner, but as I am quite sure all your young men readers have not yet become rich from reading other answers than mine, and that many of them are still in search of the philosophers stone to turn everything into gold, I venture to reply, in hopes of helping some of them. I have an intense admiration for young men determined to become an honorable part of the framework of a prosperous State. Forty-two years ago—a mero boy—I saw the genial skies and the unusually rich soil of Illinois, as a vast wilderness, the home of a few Indians and whito people, and a multitude of prairie wolves and prairie chickens. What did it need to make the farms, tho cities, and the railroads, which make it now the grand material ized wealthy State that it is? Simply an appreciation of unutilized natural wealth, and then the working of it— adding humane intelligonce and work to God's gifts, making them ours. Young men endowed with brains— God's gift so unequally bestowed— are like exceptionally rich lands, under a genial or ungenial climate, as they make it. With such men the first thing requisite is a purpose worthy of such a gift from God. A good brain, intelligent, honest purpose and per sistent work aro the rock foundations of all honesty acquired wealth, either in knowledge or in worldly possessions. But God has left a compensation for the "poor of this world" which out weighs all of that—viz: to bo "rich in faith" toward Him. Most young men think that kind of riches foolishness. "True 'tis pit}-, and pity 'tis 'tis true." Only one thing remains to add—and that is the genius, the soul, of nil earthly wealth acquisitions, except in heriting it, which any fool may do, but usually rids himself of it without any unnecessary delay—viz: the power to see and seize opportunities. Tho war did not make Gen. Grsint a great gen eral. It was in him befofe: it gave him the opportunity to show it. "Un conditional Surrender Grant" was a real existence before Fort Donelsoa was built. American alone, saying nothing of other lands, is too large for any young man of merit to say, I have no oppor tunities. They are not all in the large cities, as most young men think who flock there to find a fortune iu a day. Tliey are nearly all in tho rich, unoc cupied country wo still have only par tially developed. Let Boston young men who are not afraid to work and wait, just follow the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fo Railroad into tho South west-, the richest, prospectively, of any part of our country, and seize the op portunities which come without the asking from that soil, richer than Illi noise, aud that climate, moro gonial that any I know of in conjunction with such a soil, and they will bo to that country what the rich men of Illinois are to-day to this State, and much qiiieker, as railroads, telegraphs, and all their lightning-like concomitants are now more potent and ubiquitous than they were in Illinois forty years ago. All who may take this advice and get rich will please give at least as much to benevolence as Jacob did to God for making him rich, by sending hiui to just such a country before tliero wore any railroads to multiply human effort a thousand fold, and we will call the account square for answering your query for tho benefit of young men. OVKEIt I Mi I.I CU'TOMS TS ltUAZtU The Indian prayer-meetings in the country aro rsither a singular admix ture of superstition and devotion. A doll is dressed in silk clothes, with candles on each side, a good bit of tin sel woik about it, sind a ribbon tied around its waist. It rests on the table. Eight or ten Indian men stand around one has a large drum, which he beats continually. The women sit on the floor, while the men siug prayers to the saint, the women responding. They commence prayer at 7 or 8 o'clock and keep it up two or three hours. Then the women with their little children kiss the ribbons, asking favors of the saint. Tho men then go through the same ceremony. The saint is then locked up in a box and dancing com mences and lasts the rest of the night. Frequent portions of whisky are im bibed by the men, coffee and wine bv the women. When the men become too drunk to dance longer they retire to their hammocks and sleep until sober.—Pittsburgh Commercial Ga zelle. AMKHICAX IS VK.\TlO\S. Fifteen of the greatest inventions of the ago are American: 1, the cotton gin 2, the planing machine 3, the grass mower and reaper 4, the rotary print ing press 5, navigation by steam G, the hot air engine 7, the sewing ma chine, 8. the India rubber iadustry the machine manufacture of horseshoe* 10, the sand blast for carving 1]., the gauge lathe 22, the grais elevator 13, artificial ice making on a 'large scale 14, the electric magnet and Us practical application 15, the teleplaone. KANSAS railroads ara $500,000,000. CONCLUSION arrived at by many girls: A caramel tastes nicer than a piece of guin, but it doesn't last so long. IN the battle of life some of us aTe killed, some wounded, while bank cashiers are reported among the miss ing. WHEN a man is writing a purely business letter it is a trifle dangerous for him to wheel around and ask his wife how to spell "inamorata." RESEBYEIJ and socrctiv© he ueed to be, An overreacher, shrewd an sharp and keen, But one day round a buzz-saw monkeyed he, And an off-handed man since then he's been, —Boston Courier. TIIAT was a mean man who, being re fused the other day by an auburn-haired divinity, went to the window and looked silontly but ostentatiously—for the whito horso. NEVEB forget to bo kind to dumb animals. A few extra handfuls of corn thrown to your turkeys in these cold autumn days may make yon feel a great deal happier by Thanksgiving. THET have put up an epitaph in one of the London cemeteries, which equals in pith and exactitudo anything of the olden time. Over the gravo of a den tist thore run the lines: "View this gravestoue with alt gravity, is filling his last cavity." A MAN 80 years old recently stole a horso in Washington. When asked why a man who had attained to his age should commence stealing, lie replied: "It's tho only way I know of to palm myself off for a Congressman."—Areola liecord. "Jonsox has lost his position in the bank." "Why so?" "Well, it was discov ered that he was near-sighted." "What difference did that make?" "Tho cus tomers complained that he could not see well enough to draw a sight draft" —Arkansaw Traveler. REGARDING MAN'S SUPREMACY. The youth aud maiden quarreled. "The hand that wields the pen," said he, "Is tho hand that rules the world." Then quoth the maiden chipper, While her red lips she curlod: "Sir, the hand that wielda the slipper Is the hand that rules the world.** —Host on Courier, "WHY is this called Jacob's ladder?" asked a charming woman, as he and she were going up the steepest portion of tho Mount Washington Iiailroad. "Because," he replied, with a look which emphasized his words, "there are angels ascending and descending occasionally." "I HAVE been greatly discouraged," said a young author, "because I've seen inferior articles get into the best maga zines just through influence. How ever, I've had one of mine published at last." "Indeed," ejaculated Miss Sny der, smiling archly. "How did yon manage to get tho influence?" CEJJA—Why do yon encourage at tentions from both Tom and Harry? Irene—Well, dear, I like Tom best, but he is not very well off, and can't afford a coupe if we go to the theater. I call him my "fine-weather beau." Celia—Then what do you call Harry? Irene—My rain-bow.—Harper's Bazar. HnsnAND—My dear, I'm thinking strongly of joining the Elks. Wife Why don't you? "Would you object?" "No, indeed I really wish you would." "Why are you so anxious?" "Because if you were an Elk, when we go to the theater you wouldn't have to go out be tween acts to get a horn."—St.' Paul Globe. JUDGE B. (with emphasis)—Clara, is that George fellow coming round here again to-night? Clara (hopelessly)—I believe so, papa. Judge B.—Well, daughter, remember this: This houso closes at 10, sharp, and— Clara (hastily)—Oh, George will be here be fore that, papa, please don't worry.— Harper's Bazar. "You will be asked to- make-the pre-J sentation speech when we give the watch to Sinipkins, you know," saidiv down-town man to the President of th club. "Well, now, really, I ean't. Mv mind is a blank on such things. "That needn't make any differeice. The presentation won't be until afterj dinner, and all our minds will be- in the same fix. "•—Hartford Post A CKLEiiRATED preacher speeding a few days in a New Englandi villago, was invited by the pastor of th® to occupy his pulpit on the church Sabbath, which he kindly consented) to do. During the opening services* however, he was somewhat sunprisedi to hear himself prayed for in th® following manner: "0 Lord,, bless this deal brother from the city. Keep him hum ble. Let bim not think he is soin 'idling whesi he isaothing." GRATITUDE is properly a virtue, dis posing the mind to an inward sensa an' an outward acknowledgment of a bene lit received, together with a. road iness to return tho sanifl or the like, as the occasions 0 the doer shall require, and the abil tioa of the recoivor extend ta.—South MANY calumnies are ifnjurious »FTE being refuted. Like tie Spanish tlie worth close ta they sting when, alive and blister wte I dead.